


To believe; requiem

by General_Jellyfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Demons, F/M, Ghoul, I'll try thinking of more accurate tags later, M/M, Rugaru, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 04, Shapeshifter, Siren, Skinwalker, Team Free Will (Supernatural), Wraith, he's great, i have no idea how to tag this, idek, onwards, technically but really it's, there's a dog, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Jellyfish/pseuds/General_Jellyfish
Summary: do you believe it's possible to bury the truth?orin which not all is as it seemsORTeam Free Will gain a new member or so (or rather, something like that)
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 4





	To believe; requiem

**Author's Note:**

> okay, yes, this is from the pov of an oc BUT, before you click off, this won't be a romance between the oc and either of the bro's (you'll see why in all due time). So, I know a lot of people don't like oc stories, but give it a chance?? (bc really, this I just my excuse for a very long winded way of getting Cas and Dean together - you'll see)

The road was an endless river of tarmac baked under a brutal, relentless sun. It took seconds for the eye to travel its length across the prairie until it melted into the blue-grey horizon in the far distance. The once black tarmac was now sun-bleached greyed. No signs, no way of knowing where you are.

Rachel was in heaven.

She could feel her companion staring at her from the passenger seat, utterly unimpressed.

“Dude, come on,” she groaned, not taking her eyes off the road, “it’s not so bad! Just us, no traffic, the wind whipping through our hair – just what the doctor ordered!”

A quick glance showed that his expression hadn’t changed.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

His lips curled.

“Oh, stop it,” she chided. “You know that shit doesn’t work on me.”

He grumbled lowly, shifting in his seat and turning his back on her.

“If you end up scratching those seats, you’re dead.”

The grumble turned into a growl.

“Don’t you growl at me, bucko. I _will_ dump your arse out this car and leave without you.”

He looked back at her and let out one sharp bark.

“Okay, fine, I wouldn’t really leave you behind, but dude; you gotta stop being such a sour-puss.”

He whined.

“Yes, I know you’re bored, but I am too. I’m also tired of driving, so unless you wanna take over. . .?” his ears drooped as he gave her the dog version ‘pity-me-I’m-useless’ and Rachel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

They’d been on the road for a while now, about 4 hours excluding rest breaks, making their way down the I-90 from Maddison, Wisconsin. It was mostly a spontaneous decision; pack up some clothes and money, drag Eric – her unwilling passenger – out of bed and shove him in the car, then start driving. Rachel didn’t have a destination exactly, but she wasn’t overly concerned – she just needed to get away. Away from the city, away from her job, away from her family. Just her, Eric and their trusty Suzuki swift, heading somewhere vaguely west on a mission to learn the secrets of the universe. . .

Okay, well, maybe nothing that profound.

_“. . . for having me, it’s been a lot of fun.”_

_“Give it up for Dave Connaway everyone! Ha, ha, ha, well that was just great. And now for our 3 o’clock Music Mayhem. Enjoy great music, add free for the next hour folks! First up, an oldie but a goodie, Kansas’ Carry On Wayward Son!”_

Rachel looked at Eric with a raised eyebrow and asked, “Wanna sing along to this one?”

He barked loudly and Rachel laughed, acquiescing as she turned up the volume.

**_“Carry on my wayward son, for there’ll be peace. . .”_ **

* * *

They’d only been on the road for another 3 hours when the car started slowing down, a strange clanking and sputtering noise emanating from the engine.

Pulling over to the side of the road, she pulled the car to a stop and rested her head on the steering wheel, groaning, Rachel reluctantly got out of the car. Opening the bonnet proved a useless exercise, as Rachel realised she knew jack-shit about the working mechanics of cars, so she slammed it shut. She glared at Eric as he gave her the dog equivalent look of ‘I-told-you-so’ through the windshield.

“Shut up, you mangy mutt.”

He barked once and leapt from his seat, jumping out of the open drivers’ side door to reach her. He rubbed his nose against her hand and Rachel smiled, giving his ears a soft rub.

“This your way of saying it’s gonna be okay? ‘Cause if you hadn’t noticed, we’re kinda stuck a few hours out from the nearest city, and I don’t know any of the local numbers to call a tow-truck.”

He bit her hand lightly and growled, playfully shaking it back and forth like a chew toy.

“‘Don’t be such a pessimist?’” Rachel questioned doubtfully. “What, you want me to just pick a direction and start walking?”

He let go and started walking away, before stopping and looking back and forth between Rachel and the direction he was walking.

“Oh, you want me to follow you?”

He barked sharply.

Rachel cocked and an eyebrow.

“Okay, _Lassie_ , but if we end up lost just know that I’ll be using you for food.”

Seeing as she hadn’t actually packed much in the first place, and most of what she had packed weren’t of any real monetary – or sentimental – value, Rachel shoved a few things in a backpack – phone, wallet, food, water – and locked the car.

“Welp, Eric, nothing for it,” Rachel sighed, “Time to follow the yellow brick road.”

A lot of the time Rachel just watched her feet take steps across the faded asphalt; her dusty hiking boots luckily sturdy enough to handle the long distance. Eric trotted beside her most of the time but would sometimes run ahead, chasing after and snapping at flies, and jumping in and out of bushes.

Given that it was growing late, it took Rachel longer than it should have to realise that the growing dark wasn’t just the sun going down but dark rain clouds gathering. Eric pressed close to her side and she pulled her hood up to cover her face, half-heartedly hoping it would shield her from some of the coming deluge.

It was a wasted effort.

Despite her tired feet and aching muscles, Rachel began to jog and then run, rain pelting at her skin like tiny bullets. Eric sped up, leading her off the main highway.

“Eric!” she shouted over a clap of thunder, “where are you going?”

It looked like he may have barked, but Rachel couldn’t hear. He ran back to her tugged at her pants, letting go once she started to stumble after him.

After a few minutes of slipping and sliding in the mud, finally, Rachel started to make out something in the distance. Relieved, Rachel pushed out a last burst of energy, speeding up and not stopping even as she passed through the what looked to be the main gate.

She was huffing and puffing by the time she made through the maze of broken cars and onto the porch of the house Eric led her to, shivering and wet with a stitch in her side. Collapsing against the wall, Rachel slid down it with an exhausted groan, wrapping a limp arm around Eric as he padded over tucked himself into her side.

They watched lightning flash across the sky.

Thunder cracked.

“At least we're out of the rain, aye Eric?”

He half-heartedly huffed at her, laying his head on her leg closing his eyes. Rachel smiled tiredly and softly rubbed his ears.

“Yeah, me too.”

She could’ve sworn she’d only shut her eyes for a moment, but she must’ve fallen asleep because she woke to having water splashed in her face, Eric growling threateningly, and a man was standing over her, a sawed-off shotgun in one hand and an empty flask in the other.

“I assume you and your mutt got a good reason for squattin’ on my porch.”

Rachel blinked sluggishly at him, head swimming in a fog. Eric grumbled warnings at the man but made no other move towards him, instead shifting closer to her side. Trusting his judgement, Rachel tried her best to calm her racing heart.

“M-my car,” she mumbled, attempting to shift, bones and joints protesting violently. “broke down. Started walk-k-king, then–” Rachel stopped and gestured weakly to the yard, where the rain was still pouring, “your place was c-c-closest, so. . .”

“Fair enough,” he grumbled, seeming to mutter to himself, _can never be too sure._ He looked over her shivering form critically, and sighed, expression softening.

“You might as well come inside,” he said, shifting the shotgun to his left hand and holding out the right to help her up. “This shit-storm ain’t gonna let up anytime soon, and you ain’t gonna be going anywhere without that car of yours.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said, blinking in surprise but smiling gratefully, relieved. “I’m Rachel.”

“Bobby,” he replied. “Come on.”

Rachel shifted and just managed to get up, but Eric growled loudly.

The man’s eyebrow lifted.

“What’s his problem?”

“Dunno,” Rachel replied. She frowned, crouching to Eric’s level and stroking the fur behind his ears. “Eric, what’s wrong?”

At that, the low rumble he’d been building up cut off, a whine taking its place as he pushed his head against her hand insistently, throat rumbling once he caught sight of the man over her shoulder. Rachel followed his line of sight and she tried to keep her body from reacting. “You don’t like Bobby?”

He let out a strange combination of a growl and whine.

“Why not, buddy?” Rachel asked, continuing to rub calming circles around his ears. She heard Bobby shift, a light thunk sounding – must have knocked his shotgun against the wall. Her eyes narrowed in thought.

“Well?” the man prompted.

“Is it the gun?” Rachel asked him, and Eric barked, growl immediately building up again. Rachel tapped his nose and it cut off again. She sighed, shifting to look at Bobby.

“Sorry, would you mind putting the gun away? I’m pretty sure that’s what’s riling him up.”

His eyebrows raised high, looking a little uncertain but ultimately complied after some hesitation, disappearing inside for a moment and coming back empty handed. He scowled at the dog.

“You good now, princess?”

Rachel bit back a smile and looked at Eric.

“What’d’ you think now?” she asked him, “do you think we should trust the grumbly man who owns a shotgun not kill us and hide the bodies?”

The man snorted and Eric grumbled almost sulkily, getting that in some sense he was being laughed at. He had stopped staring so intently at the man, teeth no longer slightly barred, and ears not pulled back. He sniffed at Booby before eventually relaxing his posture. He barked twice, returning his attention Rachel and playfully mouthed at her hands.

“Did I pass the sniff test?” he asked sarcastically.

Rachel laughed. “Yeah, I think you’re good.”

He grunted, gesturing for her to follow him inside.

Rachel followed – stumbled – after him.

Now, Rachel wasn’t an idiot. She knew it wasn’t exactly smart – or safe – to follow a stranger into his home, but in her defence; firstly, the man had ample opportunity to hurt her while she was sleeping and secondly, she was fairly confident in her ability to get away safely should the occasion arise. She wasn’t Muhammad Ali by any means, but she knew enough to help herself out of a bad decision.

Besides, experience had taught her that Eric could be a very deadly companion indeed.

“–sorry ‘bout the shotgun, by the way,” Bobby said, leading her through a living room cluttered with hundreds of books and into the kitchen.

“It’s fine – certainly one hell of a wake-up call,” she joked shakily, catching the man’s eye as she peered curiously at a small, seemingly out of place, ornate mirror on the wall. She leaned tiredly against the doorframe. “Besides, if you actually meant me harm, Eric would’ve severed the tendons in your arm before you could raise your it to aim.”

Eric barked in agreement and Rachel smiled weakly.

He grunted, a critical look in his eyes as he catalogued her drooping, shivering form. He handed her a towel, and she dried herself off as best she could. Her clothes were still quite wet, and her shivers were getting worse. He then passed her a glass of water, closely watching her as she drank half of it in one go.

“You got anything you can change into?” at her nod and gesture to her only slightly wet bag, he grunted again, nodding to himself. He rummaged around one of the kitchen draws, and produce a key. “There’s a spare bedroom upstairs. Take it and get changed – ain’t no use in trying to warm up in wet clothes,” he paused, assessing her again, and sighed. “You can take one of the beds too. If you're making decisions while tired, you're basically 'drunk driving'. You can sort everything else out when you wake up."

Rachel slumped in relief. “Thank you,” she said emphatically, which was punctuated by a violent sneeze.

He waved it away, handing her the key. She grabbed it, wincing slightly as one of the edges nicked her skin.

“Sorry, old model,” Bobby apologised. “Room locks from the inside and that’s the key. Can’t get in unless you let me.”

“Oh,” Rachel responded softly.

Bobby nodded at her, shifting awkwardly. “I’ll be down here if you need me.”

* * *

Sleeping in the bed after the disaster of her day was one of the singular most comfortable experiences of her life. The change of spare clothes she had stuffed into her backpack had also been slightly wet, but they were better than what she was wearing so she got changed. After that, she’d all but collapsed in the bed, curling up against Eric – the furnace that he was – when he joined her.

Sparing a brief muttered instruction to watch the door – yes, she had locked it, and yes, she did trust Bobby’s word (to an extent), but she wasn’t stupid – Rachel conked out.

And now she was waking to loud voices.

Well, she actually woke to Eric’s low growling, but the voices were fair contributors.

“Eric?” she asked sleepily. She’d gone to sleep with him curled at her side and now he was sitting at the end of the bed, looking at the door and shifting anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

He jumped off the bed, standing in front of the door, shifting between growls and whines as he sniffed the air.

“Eric?”

Thoroughly concerned – and cautious – Rachel got up and opened the door, following Eric as he slowly slinked his way out of the room, quieting until only a low grumble could be heard. In the years she and Eric had been together, Rachel never seen him act like this, so – stomach heavy with concern – she started downstairs, intending to thank the grizzly Bobby once again before setting off and figuring out what was bothering Eric.

She didn’t expect it to be immediately obvious was reaching to bottom of the stairs – then again, she didn’t expect to see her host and two newcomers standing threateningly around a girl tied to a chair in the middle of the living room. Their backs where turned to her, but the girl’s eyes widened when Rachel came into view and she immediately started struggling.

“Please! Please, you have to help me! They’re crazy! They’re going to kill me–”

The three men turned in surprise.

“Sonofabitch,” the one with a leather jacket swore, raising the arm with the gun in it to aim at her. Rachel was frozen to stop him, but Bobby leaped into action, grabbing the man’s arm and forcing it down.

“Put that down, you idjit!”

“Bobby, what the hell?” he demanded.

“She’s harmless.”

“What the _hell_ is she doing here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry for not expecting that you’d turn up dragging hell back with you, Your Highness! And would you shut her up!” Bobby growled at him, gesturing to the girl who was still begging, before turning to Rachel – who had finally moved and reached the bottom of the stairs – hands raising in placating manner.

“You stay the fuck away from me,” she warned, Eric backing her up with a violent bark and growl.

“Rachel–”

“Stay away!”

Eric snarled, teeth gnashing.

The tall one – his expression deceptively earnest and pleading – held up his hands as well and took a step forward. “This may seem –”

“Eric.”

The Australian Shepard immediately leapt into action, ears flattening, body stiffening into a low crouch and teeth barred in a terrifying display. The hostile growl that had been building in his throat exploded into a series of sharp barks. The leather jacket one jumped, backing away.

“Sonofabitch!”

While they were distracted, Rachel lunged and snatched up the sawed-off shotgun from the table Bobby had left it on, flicked off the safety and swiftly aimed it at them.

They stopped moving.

“We are going to leave,” Rachel said shakily, “and you’re going to stay right where you are.”

Still aiming, she started walking slowly to the door, not quite able to see it out of the corner as she was unwilling to let them out of her sight. Eric stayed in front of her, ready protect her from any of their advances. Back hitting it, she reached behind her, finding the knob but panicking when no amount of jiggling would make it open.

It was locked.

Fuck.

And in that brief moment of distraction, the leather jacket one quickly raised his arm and aimed his own gun at her. She stopped trying the door and focused purely on aim the shotgun.

Eric was poised to attack, the man was positioned to fire, and Rachel hadn’t actually fired a gun in years.

It was a stalemate.

There was a bout of tense silence, no one willing to move. Even the girl was quiet, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Why don’t we all just calm down here,” the taller man started cautiously, resting a hand on the other leather jacket’s arm. He ignored the other man’s incredulous look as he forced his arm down, again looking at Rachel with an earnest expression. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Not going to–? You have a girl, _strapped_ to a _chair_ in the middle of your _living room_! In what fucking universe–”

“Not a girl,” Bobby grumbled. “Demon.”

Rachel paused, staring at him.

“A. . . _demon_?” Rachel repeated disbelievingly. “A de– are you **_shitting_** me?”

The tall one winced, but picked up the explanation diligently.

“I know it sounds–”

“That’s it,” leather jacket said impatiently. Before Rachel could raise her gun, he reached for a small bag on the table and tossed its contents on to the girl. Instantly, she screamed, her skin bubbling and sizzling.

Rachel’s eyes widened, looking uncomprehendingly between the man and the girl.

“Salt,” he said faux brightly, “repels demons and spirits and all kinds of nasties. Quite painful to them too.”

“Animals can sense usually sense them,” Bobby added pointedly after a bout of silence, “Don’t like the smell of sulphur – like rotten eggs, but 40 times worse.”

Rachel frowned, swallowing and switching her gaze to Eric. As if sensing it, he turned his head to look at her too.

_. . . standing in front of the door, shifting between growls and whines as he sniffed the air._

“Eric?” Rachel cued uncertainly; throat uncomfortably dry. Understanding her tone, Eric started scenting the air and immediate reeled back, then started growling.

Rachel deflated, closing her eyes.

The girl in the seat – Meg – begged one last time.

“Please, they’re insane. Help me.”

Fuck.

She opened her eyes. “You’re mad. Crazy. Fucking _insane_.”

The girl sobbed in relief. “Oh, thank god.” Rachel ignored her and Eric’s growl grew slightly louder as the others started to talk over her. He snarled and they fell silent, nervously watching him.

“And I must be completely stark raving,” Rachel admitted, “because for some reason, I believe you.”

And like a switch had been switched, the sobbing stopped, and Meg sighed.

“Oh well,” she grinned darkly, “it was worth a shot.”

The one in the leather jacket glared at her. “Shut up, bitch.”

She leered at him. “Make me, dick.”

Her eyes flashed black.

* * *

Bobby led Rachel past the girl – the demon – and into the kitchen, gesturing for her to sit at the table and closing the sliding doors behind them. Rachel all but collapsed into the offered seat, firmly placing her back to the other room and gratefully running her fingers through Eric’s fur when he rested his head on her lap. She watched Bobby get out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“. . . that girl. . . she’s really a demon?”

Bobby set the glasses on the table, pouring a generous amount in both. “She’s possessed. A human possessed by a demon.”

“Oh, fun.” Rachel picked up the glass and swallowed a generous amount, ignoring the yells of pain from the other room. “So, there’s an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?”

“There about.”

She could hear loud, foreign chanting and more screaming.

“Fun,” Rachel repeated, quieter. She finished her glass and Bobby filled again without prompt.

“That’s one way of puttin’ it,” he remarked sarcastically. He watched her contemplatively, eyebrows drawn in a deep frown. “You seem to be taking this well. Better than most at least.”

Rachel internally winced, looking at Eric and taking a deep breath.

“Sorry, can we not talk about this? I just want to leave and never think about this again.”

“Right,” Bobby said awkwardly. “I ordered a cab a little while ago – should be here soon.” He was silent for a bit, before continuing quitter. “Still, not many people tend to believe us that quickly, ‘specially with little to no proof.”

Rachel took another swig.

“A dog’s nose doesn’t lie.”

Bobby grunted. “Hell of a lot of trust to put in a mutt.”

Rachel snorted and looked down at Eric with a wry grin. “Yeah, well, we’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” Eyes closed, the dog huffed in response, nudging her hand with his nose to get her to continue petting him. “Oh, alright, you big teddy.”

The chanting came back, and with it the screaming. Rachel’s hand twitched and Eric whined softly.

“What kind of dog is he?” Bobby asked loudly. “Border Coli?”

“Um. . .” Meg – the demon – screamed again and Rachel took a deep breath, “Australian Shepard.”

Bobby nodded.

“That’s nice.”

“. . Yeah.”

The screaming cut off again and the sudden silence was oppressive.

“How long have you had him?”

Rachel was grateful for the distraction.

“. . . well, h-he used to. . . belong to my neighbours, but basically since I was about 7 or 8?”

“Looks pretty spry for his age.”

Eric seemed to preen.

Rachel flicked his ear.

“Yeah, he’s not completely useless for such an old man.”

Eric huffed and lightly bit her hand.

“And smart too,” Bobby said, a small frown puckering his eyebrows.

Rachel shifted.

“Yeah, he is.”

The man seemed to have run out of small talk topics, so he just grunted. “I’ll send a friend to go find your car and bring it back – if you’re willing stay in town for a day or two, I’ll get her fixed up, no charge. Then you can never think of us again. Call it compensation for the trauma.”

“Bobby!”

Bobby looked past Rachel and at the closed doors.

“Go,” Rachel said, “I’ll just. . .”

She waved her hand at the bottle of Jack.

“. . Right.” He got up awkwardly and left, closing the door behind him. She could hear the other two men muttering to each other, but quickly busied herself with pouring her third glass when she heard a faint “you’re gonna kill her,” from Bobby.

“What the fuck have we gotten into Eric?” she whispered, and he whined, nuzzling her leg again.

It was quieter for a spell; then the chanting started up for a third time.

_“Dominicos sanctae ecclesiae, terogamus audi nos, terribilis deus do sanctuario suo deus israhel. **Ipse tribuite virtutem et fortitudinem plebi suae** , **benedictus deus, gloria patri. . .** ”_

And Meg screamed.

Pause.

Then;

“She’s still alive. Call 911. Get some water and blankets.”

Rachel looked up as Bobby pulled open the doors and beelined to the kitchen. She could see the two other men untying the girl. “Thank you,” she whispered to them.

There was blood dripping from her mouth.

Rachel didn’t think. She shooed Eric’s head off her lap and got up, gently taking the glass of water from Bobby.

“I’ll take care of this, you get the phone.”

He nodded at her, grateful. “The blankets are upstairs, hall cupboard on the right.”

It only took Rachel about a minute to race up the stairs, find the right cupboard, grab a blanket and run back down, grabbing the glass of water as she went. Bobby was already there, the girl now lying on the ground, so she handed both to him. He gave the glass to the one with the leather jacket – who held the girl’s head up so she could drink – while he and the tall one covered her.

Rachel backed away, clenching her fingers in Eric’s fur as he reached her side.

“Where is the demon we’re looking for?” the taller man asked the girl softly.

“Not. . there. Other ones. Awful. . . ones.”

“Where are they keeping our Dad?” the other one asked.

“By. . . the river. Sunrise.”

“‘Sunrise’. What does that mean?” The girl didn’t answer. “What does that mean?”

The girl was dead.

Rachel swallowed harshly, unable to tear her eyes away. Eric bit her sleeve tugging on it gently, and she allowed him to drag her back into the kitchen. She could hear Bobby saying something to the other two men – she realised she never got their names – but his voice trailed slowly, drowned out by a piercing ring that grew louder and somehow more muffled, almost seeming to pulsate.

She jumped as a hand landed on her shoulder, the sound receding. Judging by the silence in the house, the other two men – Sam and Dean Bobby would later offhandedly tell her – had already left, leaving Rachel, Eric, Bobby and the dead girl.

The dead girl.

“That’ll be the shock setting in.”

“S-she’s. . . that girl’s. . . dead.”

“Yeah. Now I’ve gotta come up with a good reason why before the cops get here.” Bobby turned to Rachel. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to help?”

Rachel stared at him increduously.

“Dude. . . **_no_**.”

He shrugged.

“Worth a try.”

Not long after that – but before the paramedics and cops – the cab arrived and Rachel, not knowing what else to do and still in a weird floaty stage of shock, got in and left – after a strict warning from Bobby not to speak about anything she’d seen, of course.

Unable to actually leave town until her car got towed and fixed, Rachel booked a room at the closet motel. By the time they got there, night had fallen and enveloped the city in a blanket of darkness. The metal of the doorknob was cool against her palm and she twisted it with ease, entering the well-lit living room, letting Eric trot past her.

Shuffling through, Rachel slumped right into her the armchair near the tv and threw her badge on the table. 

“I’ve decided,” Rachel declared after a long time of staring blankly at the gaudy wallpaper, “The world is a horrifying place. A weird, horrible fucking place.”

There was some rattling from the kitchen behind her, and bleary-eyed and unshaven man emerged, munching his way slowly through a mouthful of cereal. He pointed the spoon at her.

“Says the girl who didn’t bat an eyelid when childhood BFF turned up in her backyard able to into a dog after being presumed dead for two years.”

Rachel let out a slightly hysterical exhale.

“Dude, I was _seven.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Lassie is a reference to the female collie with "intelligent, apprehensive eyes" who rescues two half-brothers who are lost and dying in the snow.
> 
> Okay, so I know some if not a lot of you will be like “dude, why did she just abandon her car like that” and “dude, how come she just trusts Bobby not to kill her in her sleep” and “dude, what the hell is going through mind to make her believe B-man and W Bro’s about demons!” Well my friends, the answers all lie with Eric. I won’t give all away now, and a lot should be answered next chapter, but basically Rach has a better time believing that Meg is a demon bc um, hell, Eric can turn into a human (or is it that he can turn into a dog? Õ.o) so demons are that far-fetched. The reason she decided to trust Bobby is bc Eric didn’t think Bobby would hurt them, and due to backstory stuffy stuff you can’t know yet, Rachel trusts Eric’s judgement in these things absolutely and irrevocably.
> 
> Trust me, it will all make sense.


End file.
